


To be happy

by indigospacehopper



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Reassurances, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigospacehopper/pseuds/indigospacehopper
Summary: As their university years draw to a close, Sherlock requires some reassurance.(One-shot, smidge fluffy, they're in love idk)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	To be happy

“With all due respect, John, you have no idea what I’m going through.”

John stared blankly at Sherlock, holding the door open for Sherlock with his elbow, his hands clutching both of their coffees.  
Sherlock passed through and continued talking.

“There’s just so much pressure. It’s alright for you, you know what you want to do. I have no idea; I have never been this uncertain about anything in my entire life.”

John stepped out into the January air and was for a moment thankful that he was carrying both his and Sherlock’s coffees, their warmth thawing his hands as though he’d placed them on radiators. White clouds sat heavily across the sky, but it was still a relatively bright day. Earlier than usual for the time of year, snowdrops were sprouting along the grassy verges of the car park and the green stalks of daffodils were popping out of the ground, signaling that winter was soon to be over. 

“And it’s not like I can continue living at home,” Sherlock went on, turning towards the steps leading down to John’s accommodation block. John followed him. “And even if I do manage to find somewhere even remotely affordable to live in central London, I’d still have to have a flat-share. Or several flat-mates.” Sherlock shivered. “I could find somewhere outside of London, I suppose.” His nose crinkled in disgust. “Birmingham.”

John chuckled, handing Sherlock his coffee.

“You’ll find somewhere. Let’s be honest, you’ll end up doing a master’s degree or something.” He sipped his coffee. It stung his lips and tongue, somehow incredibly hot and cold at the same time. “Plus, you’ve always got that trust fund to fall back on.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, veering right into an alleyway between the gym and the student union and marching through it. It was barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, and Sherlock took the lead to make it easier.

“Oh for God’s sake, will you drop the trust fund? I don’t plan on using it.”

John chuckled. 

“Sherlock, how far into your overdraft are you?”

“I don’t have an overdraft.”

John laughed.

“Do you have a family signet ring?”

“No… Mycroft has it.” 

John started laughing again as they stepped out of the alleyway and John’s halls came into sight. A concrete cube, it reminiscent of the brutalist architecture J.G. Ballard wrote about. Small, square, tired-looking windows peered out across the campus from where they were set back in the pebbledash block. Regimented in their separation, they signified an equality with which John couldn’t quite connect. The rooms inside were all the same, all equally cramped and unhomely, designed in bulk to make life easy for the builders and the accommodation team. 

Battery-farmed students shivered inside, trying to fix their broken heater.

“If there’s a family signet ring you’re automatically rich,” John said simply. “Those are the rules.”

They reached the main entrance to John’s halls and Sherlock pulled the door open. He held it for John, and John mumbled a quick thanks as he went through. John and Sherlock didn't live in the same halls; Sherlock resided in the larger, more modern accommodation on the other side of the campus. They rarely went there, though. John doubted Sherlock knew his room number.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, “but Mycroft has the signet ring, I don’t.”

“That means shit, Sherlock,” John chuckled, ignoring the broken lift and shoulder barging the doorway to the staircase open. A cold draft greeted him, tumbling down the ten flights of stairs. 

“It means that I’m the back-up,” Sherlock countered, following John up the stairs. “Granted it means that there isn’t much expectation of what I can achieve. Mycroft is supposed to be the great one, while I’m supposed to be happy. That’s the younger sibling’s job. That’s why you’re putting yourself through medical school while Harry’s gallivanting off to Ibiza with her latest girlfriend, being happy.”

“And that’s what you’re worried about?” John asked. “Being happy?”

“I’m not worried about being happy. I’m worried about not being happy.”

John paused on the landing to the first floor and turned to face Sherlock, who very nearly collided with him as he went to take another step.

“Sherlock.” John shifted his coffee from one hand to the other, and his now free hand rose to Sherlock’s cheek. Their height was equal on the steps, and John smiled at Sherlock as Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

“You have nothing to worry about. You’re brilliant.”

Sherlock sighed heavily and pulled away from John’s hand. 

“Yes, but what if that’s not enough?” He asked, as John’s hand dropped back down to his side. “You need 10 years of experience to be hired for anything, and all the jobs I’d possibly like to do require at least 20 years of career progression. And what if I waste my time fighting for a job that I think I’ll love but when I get there, I hate it?”

“Sherlock,” John sighed. “Can you honestly see yourself working for anyone? Having someone tell you what to do? Could you handle someone telling you when to go on break? Waking up at 7am every morning to go to a job you can’t stand?”

“Is this suppose to be reassuring?” Sherlock frowned.

John ignored him.

“You’re going to do great things, Sherlock,” John told him, smiling warmly. “I know you are. And while I’m at war patching up bullet holes, I know that you’ll be busy doing whatever makes you happy.”

Sherlock sighed.

“You can’t know that.”

“But I do know that,” John chuckled, “because you’re a stubborn git and you won’t settle for anything but the best. So, while I know that I want to be a Doctor, that I want to join the army, and that you have no idea what you want to do, I also know that you still have enough time and enough support behind you to work it out. You don’t have to have a set plan mapped out in front of you when you take off your graduation gown. You’re going to achieve great things because you have that uncertainty, you’re picky. I have every confidence that, once you realise what you want to do with your life, you’re going to excel at it.”

Sherlock bowed his head and John kissed his temple.

“I love you,” John whispered into Sherlock’s curls. 

“I love you,” Sherlock replied. He took John’s free hand. “And maybe I don’t have to be completely happy in my job,” he said, looking down at his and John’s hands. “Because I know that as long as I have you, I’ll be the happiest man in the world.”

John chuckled. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold or the conversation, but they were both blushing a deep crimson.

“You’re cute and so soppy,” he said, and Sherlock glared at him.

“I am not cute or soppy,” he bit, but that only made John laugh.

“Come on.” John tugged Sherlock’s hand. “I need you to help me revise for Tuesday’s exam.”

Sherlock nodded, and they continued to John’s stuffy flat together, clutching each other’s hands and their coffee for warmth; both uncertain about what the future would bring, but resolute that as long as the other was a participant of that future, they would be perfectly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Fully wrote this while procrastinating my own life-decision making.
> 
> Whatever you've got coming up in your life, may you achieve everything you want from it!
> 
> \- indigospacehopper x


End file.
